Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Lickity Split

In less than two months, I will have an official five year old. It's a milestone, folks. One that has crept up unbelievably fast. Have I really been a Mommy for five years? It doesn't seem that long, I swear it.

Well, not quite five years. I have a little over a month and a half to go yet.

I'm not rushing it, is all I'm saying.

With age comes advancements in fine motor skills. Some of those motor skills finer than others. For instance, my not-quite-five year old informed me a couple of weeks back that he wanted a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. I responded with the thought that PB sounded like a fine idea for lunch and that I would get to work on the sandwiches in a couple of minutes.

'I can make it, Momma,' he replied.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, I would take care of it, when it hit me that this was a pretty simple task. Perhaps I should let him try it. My negative thoughts were that at least peanut butter didn't ooze out of its jar, so I wouldn't have to clean up any spills.

'Okay, Buddy. Go to it.'

It took half a nano-second for him to realize I had given him permission to work unassisted in the kitchen. He flew into action, getting his step stool out, getting peanut butter, bread, and a butter knife. In short order, he was seated at the table eating his well made sandwich. And he had even cleaned up his mess!

Since then, we have had several lunches that included peanut butter sandwiches, all made by Thomas, of course. In fact, if things are really going well, all I have to do is set out the dishes. The kids can pretty well supply their own lunch. Thomas can even fill the cups with water and serve them to everyone.

It is a sweet deal.

Sunday, I was elbow deep in making baby food for Anna when lunch time rolled around. Thomas came into the kitchen and volunteered to make PB sandwiches for everyone. I pulled out the bread and put the proper amount out for him so all he had to do was slather everything with peanut butter. Then I turned my eyes back to the blueberries and the blender. A few moments later, I turned around to see one sandwich complete and Thomas licking the knife.

Then he went to put the knife back in the jar.

'Thomas! Don't lick the knife and then stick it back in the peanut butter, son! You don't lick it until all the sandwiches are done.'

Because everybody knows you lick the peanut butter off the knife, right? Or am I the only one who does that? And, apparently, teaches my children to, as well.

'Oh...' he replied.

I gave him a clean knife and let him go back to his task.

Later that same afternoon, Sarah Grace was sorting the flatware from the dishwasher into the drawers it all belonged in when Joshua came through the kitchen. (I was in there supervising, but not really, obviously).

'Sarah Grace! We don't put the spoons in our mouth before we put them into the drawer, honey!'

'Oh...' she replied.

My children have a history with licking things. I guess I thought we were past that phase of childhood with the older two. However, it seems that I was wrong.